


Dirty Little Handprints

by TheFlirtMeister



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/pseuds/TheFlirtMeister
Summary: “When will I know if my soulmate has touched my arm yet?”“You’ll know.” She says, “It’s like an…. Explosion, inside of you. Like fireworks, and your mark will hurt.”“Hurt?”Soulmate AU





	Dirty Little Handprints

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Checoyourself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Checoyourself/gifts).



> merry christmas checoyourself!!! i hope u enjoy this fic and have a happy holidays!! <33
> 
> (ALSO THIS ISNT CHRISTMAS-Y AT ALL WHOOPS)

There’s an imprint of a white hand on Lewis’ forearm. It stands out against the rest of his skin, a deep copper colour. The hand is smaller than Lewis’ too, when he places his own palm flat out against it, he can cover it completely.

“A woman then,” Anthony says when the imprint first starts to form on Lewis’ skin, “Or at least, someone with smaller hands than yours.”

They’re in the kitchen, Lewis standing awkwardly with his shirt sleeve rolled up to his shoulder, practically cutting off the circulation. The imprint is faint, more a tonal change of skin colour than a proper soulmate mark.

“A child?” Nicholas asks. He’s kneeling on the sofa, looking at them over the top of it.

“This is a private conversation.” Lewis snaps, already fumbling to roll down his sleeve.

“I want to see!” Nicholas whines, “It’s not fair- Dad, make him show me!”

“Show your brother.” Anthony says, and Lewis sighs, stomping over to his brother and flinging his arm into his face.

“You see now?”

Nicholas traces the mark with his finger, eyes wide. “How do you think they’re going to touch you?”

“I don’t know.” Lewis replies truthfully, and then jerks his arm away. “Happy now?”

“Yes.” Nicholas says, “When’s my soulmate mark going to come in?”

“Never.” Lewis says, and Nicholas’ face crumples. “You’re never going to meet your soulmate.”

Nicholas starts to wail indignantly, and Lewis gets a cuff over the back of his head from his father.

“Apologise.” Anthony says, and Lewis rolls his eyes.

“Sorry.” He says, dragging out the word until it loses its meaning, and then stomps off to his room.

*

His step mother comes to see him later, knocking softly on the door with her knuckles and then pushing it open. Lewis is sitting on his beanbag chair, watching an old Schumacher race on his ancient television that makes the picture go all fuzzy.

“Whose winning?” She asks, and Lewis nods towards the screen.

“Schumacher. Obviously.”

She laughs and sits down beside him, rubbing the top of his head comfortingly. “I wish you and your brother didn’t fight.”

“He’s a baby.” Lewis complains, “He doesn’t know anything.”

“Still, would you have liked it if someone had made fun of you when you were his age?” She asks.

Lewis shakes his head. “No.”

“Exactly.” She says, and then nods towards his arm. “May I see?”

Lewis rolls up his shirt sleeve to show her, the skin of the handprint is getting even lighter in colour.

“Ooh.” She says, “Very impressive.”

Lewis flushes, pleased. “When will I know if my soulmate has touched my arm yet?”

“You’ll know.” She says, “It’s like an…. Explosion, inside of you. Like fireworks, and your mark will hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“In a good way.” His step mother says, and Lewis thinks it over for a moment.

“Did it hurt when Dad shook your hand?” He asks, looking at her hand, which is a darker grey colour to the rest of her skin.

“Yes.” She says, “But I enjoyed it.”

Lewis reaches out and tangles their hands together. The mark is bigger than his own hand, he can see the grey peeking out.

“I hope I find my soulmate soon.” He says, and she laughs, gently removing his hand from hers.

“I hope so too.” She says, and stands up, bones creaking. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know Schumichael-“

“Schumacher.”

“Schumacher is interesting, but you need to sleep.” She rubs his head against comfortingly, and Lewis looks up at her, smiling.

“I won’t, I promise.” He says, lying, and she smiles back at him and leaves the room.

*

Lewis’ first impression of Nico Rosberg is of a boy with too much fat on him, clinging to his father’s arm. It’s their first ever Formula 1 black tie event, and Lewis is in a borrowed suit, and Nico is in a tailored one. They’re both fifteen years old, too young to be even considering a role in Formula 1, and they keep exchanging worried glances at each other _. Are you my enemy? Are you my friend?_

Lewis has never felt so out of place in his life. Not just with the divide between him and Nico, it’s the everything. Lewis stands out against the sea, no, the flood of white faces, and he knows that everyone is staring at him. He keeps fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt sleeve, tugging at it until his entire sleeve is unravelling. His handprint soul mark burns underneath the material.

“He’s trying to psyche you out.” Anthony says, after he looks over at Nico and Lewis staring at one another. His hand is on Lewis’ back, in a manner that is supposed to be comforting, but is making Lewis feel itchy.

“I don’t think he is.” Lewis says, unable to drag his eyes away from Nico.

Nico is leaning against his father, Keke, listening to the conversation that the older man is having with an ex driver that Lewis can’t remember the name of. Nico has an effortlessly way of slipping himself into other people’s conversations, he’s only young but he can still come out with a witty quip that makes even the adults laugh.

But his eyes keep darting over at Lewis. Lewis wants to go over to him, to talk to him, but he knows his father will disapprove, will tell him off for attempting to make a friend in a sport like this.

“He’s a Rosberg.” Anthony says, the word curling off his tongue. “He’s a threat.”

Lewis sighs, looking down at his feet. His shoes are scuffed, and he tries to rub them on the back of his trousers, a parody of a Mr Bean sketch. Anthony nudges him hard, and Lewis jerks forward, face going red.

“Don’t show us up.” Anthony hisses.

“I’m not.” Lewis snaps back, or at least, as much as he can. His father cares about their reputation, but not enough that he won’t hesitate to tell his son off in public.

Lewis looks up, scowling, and catches sight of Nico looking back at him. There’s a moment, and Lewis waits for Nico to duck his head again, but instead Nico pulls a face. It’s such a shock that Lewis blinks hard, and then sticks out his tongue at Nico.

Nico grins. Lewis grins back.

*

“I need a wee.” Lewis says, during the fancy dinner. It’s weird finger food, and Lewis has been poking it around his plate for the past half an hour.

“You’re a big boy.” Anthony says, “You can go by yourself.”

Lewis rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t asking you to come with me. I was just telling you.”

“Fine, fine.” Anthony takes a bite of the weird mousse thing. “Go ahead.”

Lewis pushes himself back from the table, chair scraping against the wood. Everyone looks up from their dinner to stare at him, and Lewis swallows awkwardly, taking his napkin from his lap and laying it on the table.

“Be right back.” He says loudly, and then escapes.

Lewis is wandering around the corridors for a good five minutes before he finds the toilets. Truth be told, he doesn’t really need to go, he just wants to escape from the stuffy posh dining room, and all the people who are turning his nose up at him.

He stands by the sinks, staring at his reflection in the mirror. A frightened boy looks back at him, and Lewis sighs and rests his head against the cool of the glass, wondering what the rest of his family must be doing. His brother will be playing some football game. His step mother will be watching one of her soap operas. Lewis wishes more than anything that he could be there with them.

The door to the bathroom open and closes, and Lewis jerks away from the mirror, hurriedly turning on the taps so it looks like he’s doing something. He grabs hold of the fancy bar of soap, which is in the shape of an F1 car, and with undisguised horror, watches it slip out of his hands and fall onto the floor.

“Fuck.” Lewis says.

“Whoops.” Nico Rosberg says, bending down to pick it up delicately, and then drops it into the sink. “Run some water over it, it’ll be good as new.”

“I wouldn’t trust your household cleaning tips.” Lewis says, but starts the tap anyway. “You’d poison everyone in the house.”

Nico shrugs, but he’s smiling. “You’re Lewis Hamilton.”

“Yes.” Lewis says, “Hello.”

“Hi.” Nico says, and there’s an awkward silence. “Having fun?”

“No.” Lewis says bluntly, and Nico laughs.

“Me neither.” He says, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his blazer. “I was trying to get out of it so badly- I pretended to be ill so that my Dad would take pity on me.”

“And did he?”

“Not one bit.” Nico says, and then looks at Lewis. “But then I heard that you were coming, and I stopped pretending to be ill.”

“Me?” Lewis asks, blinking. “Why?”

“Because I want to be friends with you, idiot.” Nico says, and the word doesn’t insult Lewis as much as he thinks it should. “We’re team mates.”

“People can’t be friends in F1.” Lewis parrots his father, and Nico tilts his head to one side.

“You really believe that?”

Lewis hesitates for a moment, and then shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” Nico says, “Because we’re going to be friends.”

“Oh are we?” Lewis asks, a smile playing at his lips. “You’ve decided that already have you?”

“Yup.” Nico says, and grins.

There’s another moment of silence, but it’s less awkward this time. They’re both looking at each other a little goofily, and Lewis has a strange desire to spill his entire life story to this almost-stranger. He refrains from it though, instead clearing his throat.

“We should probably go back to the table. I don’t want my Dad to come looking for me.”

“Same.” Nico says in a tired voice. “Come on then.”

He reaches out and squeezes Lewis’ arm, and Lewis’ body reacts accordingly. He feels a spark in the centre of his stomach, the feeling of being so excited for something that you’re almost sick with it. Sparks fly behind his eyes, and he reaches out blindly, grabbing hold of Nico’s shoulder to right himself. Nico gasps too, a shudder of breath, and Lewis doesn’t know if he wants to throw up or scream with pleasure.

They both open their eyes at the exact same time and stare at one another. Lewis’ whole world seems to be in brighter colour than before, and he pulls away from Nico to draw up his shirt sleeve. His soul mark is burning bright white, the colour of a star, and he stares at it with wide eyes. Nico shrugs off his own blazer, pulling down his shirt colour at the shoulder to reveal a mark so black it’s the colour of onyx.

It’s Lewis’ handprint.

They’re soulmates.

“Oh.” Nico says, in a very quiet voice. Lewis thinks he’s angry, or upset, until Nico raises his head and flashes Lewis with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Lewis agrees, and wonders what the hell will happen next.

**Author's Note:**

> comment if u enjoyed.......... im poor......... i need comments to survive.......


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